


Balancing Act

by arttemis



Category: Red Dead Redemption, Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Does this count as a fix-it?, Gen, Kidnapping, Rescue Missions, Spoilers for Chapter Four
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-18 20:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16524266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arttemis/pseuds/arttemis
Summary: "Where's the O'Driscoll?" Jack asks. From behind Cain's mass Arthur can see a frown firmly etched into his features."You mean Kieran?" Jack nods. "He ain't much of an O'Driscoll no more." Maybe he never was. Arthur wasn't too sure anymore. Jack shrugs, still looking up at him and waiting for an answer. "Don't know really. Haven't seen him since your party. Why'd you ask?"He rolls Cain's ear between his fingers before answering. "Everyone's goin' missing. You, me, Kieran."





	Balancing Act

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so there are some pretty major spoilers in this for Chapter 4 if the tags and summary didn't tell you. However, if you don't mind spoilers you don't need to have completed it for context.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The Reverend is bellowing some god awful song about working girls that a boy as young as Jack really shouldn't be hearing. It's not even dark yet and he's already pissed. Arthur is going to goddamn snap. He can see him wobbling closer out of the corner of his eye, hear him too, still singing off key. It's been a hard few days. Moving the camp to Shady Belle in the middle of the fucking swamps with all the gators and mosquitoes and the smell of wood rot that hangs in the air like a physical thing was doing Arthur's head in. Jack had been taken and they only just got him back. His shoulder is still giving him trouble. The Reverend was yet to shut up and stop drinking like he'd _sworn_ he would after Arthur pulled him off those train tracks.

Arthur has had _enough_.

He places his half-finished bowl of stew back onto the table. It splashes. He's hungry but _god, he's so angry_. Charles' eyes snap to him and he gives a tiny shake of his head.

"Leave it, Arthur," he orders, quiet so the Reverend doesn't hear and amble even closer.

Micah laughs, let's his own bowl drop and soup spill over the sides then slaps Artur's back roughly. He jerks from the force of the hit. Feels his anger simmer. "Why don't you go teach him a lesson, Morgan? I'd say he deserves it."

Charles curses and glowers when Micah pushes himself up fast enough to knock his chair into the soft muddy ground with a wet _squelch_. Arthur hates this damn swamp. The near constant rain and general marshy-ness of the area had been torture to the grounds. Turned everything gluggy and watery. Micah crosses his arms over his chest and snorts like an angry bull to grab the attention of everyone nearby.

"Our holy man!" he calls over the top of Swanson's singing. It gets him to shut up. "Debasing himself so early in the day! I'm shocked the constant drinking hasn't killed you already, old man," Micah snarls the last sentence. The Reverend seems to realise that he's being addressed and turns clumsily to face them. Goes red and blotchy in the face once he realises what's been said.

"Y-You can't speak to me like that!" Swanson stumbles closer so he can jab a finger against Micah's chest. Almost trips over his own feet doing so.

There are a few scattered laughs around camp. Arthur's attention is split between the way Dutch is watching him with such _distaste_ he can feel it like ash on his tongue and how Charles has his hands free like he's preparing to stop a fight even if he hasn't gotten up. It's enough to make the rage burning in his gut go cold.

Arthur is so used to Micah trying to rile him up for fun anything that comes out of his mouth he disregards immediately.

"And, why is that?" Micah laughs cruelly. The Reverend flounders for a moment but Micah speaks up before he can respond. "'Cause way I see it? You ain't nothin' but a drain on our resources. Eating and drinking your way through-"

"Micah," Arthur interrupts and puts on his best _do not fuck with me right now_ voice. He stands and places a heavy hand on Micah's shoulder to force him back into the chair Charles had kicked up for him. "Shut up." He gives his shoulder one more too-hard squeeze and faces the Reverend. He gets a wave of whiskey breath for his trouble. "Why don't you go sleep it off, huh, Reverend? You know Micah don't mean half of what comes outta his mouth."

 _For the love of god_ , Arthur thinks, _do not pull a gun_.

Swanson scowls. Arthur sees Charles tense. Then, he spits at Micah's feet (Arthur tightens his grip to an almost crushing hold on his shoulder) and walks off towards the river. Hopefully, he isn't drunk enough to try swimming. Burying his body because he walked into a gator's open mouth is not something Arthur wants to do. Ever. The few people that had gathered busy themselves with other things when it becomes clear no one will be putting Reverend in the ground tonight. Dutch does too.

"Thought you wanted a fight," Micah taunts. Arthur sighs, pulls Micah's hat down so it covers his face and walks over to where Jack is watching him with curious eyes. Micah starts blustering behind him, complaining, as usual.

"How you doing, kid?" Arthur steps into the fountain so he can take a seat of the edge of it and face the boy.

Jack has made a nice little nest for himself and Cain in the big dry fountain. He's got a couple of books, courtesy of Hosea if Arthur had to guess, next to him, a pile of blankets under him and the giant of a dog laying across his lap.

"Where's the O'Driscoll?" Jack asks. From behind Cain's mass Arthur can see a frown firmly etched into his features.

"You mean Kieran?" Jack nods. "He ain't much of an O'Driscoll no more." Maybe he never was. Arthur wasn't too sure anymore. Jack shrugs, still looking up at him and waiting for an answer. "Don't know really. Haven't seen him since your party. Why'd you ask?" Last he'd seen kid was throwing _rocks_ at the poor guy.

He rolls Cain's ear between his fingers before answering. "Everyone's goin' missing. You, me, Kieran."

The anger is back a little now. Thinking about the kid being taken from them by that asshole in Saint Denis. Arthur pushes it back. Refuses to acknowledge it. No wonder the kid is worried though. Arthur had come back from his little trip covered in blood and half dead. Not to mention what happened to his dad. Sean too. Fuck, this kid has been through some crap.

"I'll go find him for you, okay?" Arthur promises. He braces himself against the fountain so he can lean into it without crushing Cain and ruffles Jack's hair fondly. He gives him a shrewd look and doesn't seem even a little convinced Arthur will do as he says. Arthur's blaming Marston for the kid's trust issues. "I'm sure he'll be fine. Probably just went into town for a bit."

"If you think so, Uncle Arthur." Jack sighs like he's got the weight of the world on his shoulders. Cain echoes it. "Could you go now, please? I'm real worried."

"Sure, kid."

Arthur rises, giving Jack what he hopes is a reassuring smile but it does nothing to ease the frown on his face. He steps out of the fountain and looks to the edge of camp by the big tree Mary-Beth has taken to spending her time under. She's on her knees, scrubbing some clothes clean with an old bucket and washboard, watching the tree line with an intense focus. Jack isn't the only one worried then.

"You seen Kieran, Mary-Beth?" Arthur cuts to it. The two are close. She'll probably know the name of whatever tavern he'd crawled off to so Arthur could drag him back to camp. Weaselly little bastard was part of the family now and that meant no sneaking off and worrying everyone.

Mary-Beth jumps. The scrubbing board hits the bucket with a dull clang. "Christ, Arthur," she hisses and rubs at her heart. Arthur won't bring up how he hadn't snuck up on her at all. She must be really worried. "No, I haven't seen him. You boys finally going to look for him? He's been gone for days."

Arthur offers her a hand up. She takes it and isn't shy about using him to pull herself to her feet.

"Yeah, maybe. You wanna come?" He could use the extra hands. If Kieran has been gone so long Arthur _really_ doubts he's on a bender.

"Let me get my things," Mary-Beth says firmly. She dusts her hands on her skirt and yanks it up so she can walk freely. She calls something to Tilly that Arthur doesn't catch and thrusts the scrubbing board at her. Tilly takes it without a word. Mary-Beth heads to her tent. Arthur pulls a cigarette out and lights a match on his spurs to smoke while he waits.

There are only so many people Arthur could bring on this. Only so many he wanted to bring too. Charles and Javier were the obvious choices. Both quiet and good at getting the job done discreetly. Lenny if he isn't busy, but, Dutch had him on more and more jobs lately. Burning him out before he had the good sense to tell him to go bother someone else. At least in Arthur's opinion. Kid was busy trying to prove him or something and wasn't turning down anything thrown his way. John, _maybe_. He was turning into too much of a hot head and that business with Jack had only stoked that fire hotter.

He'd be useful in the inevitable fallout though.

The camp is mostly quiet. People going about their business and doing their chores. All the excitement that Micah had tried to stir up has already settled. It makes it easy to find Charles. He had abandoned the table at some point, gone over to sit on one of the logs by the firepit. He's got one of his guns laid open in his hands and is rubbing it over with some oil. Always working. Arthur walks over and takes the seat on his left. Clears his throat.

"You up for a rescue mission, Charles?" Arthur asks, leans close and keeps his voice low. Doesn't want to alarm the camp.

Charles gives his gun a final once over and holsters it. "Kieran?" _Arthur really was the last to notice things around here, huh?_ Still, he nods. "Meet you at the horses in ten. Who else you bringing?"

Arthur breathes out a mouthful of smoke to the side before replying. "Mary-Beth, Javier and John." Charles makes a face at John's name and Arthur waves his hand dismissively. "I know. I know. He'll be on his best behaviour."

"Better hope so," Charles says and stands.

"Yeah, yeah. Get to the horses. See if you can grab Javier too."

The smoke in his lungs on his next inhale is a little harder to breathe out. Kieran is still a kid. The way his beard still grew in all patchy was a testament to it. The O'Driscoll's would probably recognise his face (although with the way Kieran spoke about how quickly Colm went through them maybe not) and Colm is an old bitter bastard. Arthur won't be surprised if he tries to use Kieran to get at Dutch. Keyword being _tries_ here. He doesn't deserve to be apart of Colm O'Driscoll's grudge match with Dutch.

Shit. They need to find him soon. Before things get worse.

Arthur heaves a sigh and sticks the cigarette back in his mouth. If he squints he can see Charles talking to Javier and, Mary-Beth looking ready for some kinda war with all the guns strapped to her. Arthur really can't afford to take another risk on this. John is his one wild card. He needs everyone else to play their parts to a tee. No surprises.

He already knows he's asking a little too much.

"Marston!" Arthur calls, he's close enough to the tree line that it carries over the camp. He can't see Lenny around and he's starting to get nervous. They've wasted enough time as is. John would have to do.

"What?" John asks from behind him. Arthur turns around. He has a rifle slung over his shoulder. Probably about to go on guard duty. It can wait. He's also got a nasty scowl on his face. That can also wait, Arthur decides.

"C'mon." He nods towards where Mary-Beth, Charles and Javier have gathered around the horses and are watching them. "We're heading out." Arthur leaves it vague on purpose. Doesn't know how John will react. Sometimes, he holds grudges worse than Dutch. John, thankfully, doesn't question it though. Just drops his rifle back onto the stone wall with the others and falls into line behind Arthur.

Arthur pulls the stub of the cigarette out of his mouth and drops it on the ground so he can crush it with his boot. Feels the mud that gets caught in the heel of it and sighs, resigning himself to living in this swampy wasteland. Mary-Beth is already on top of her own horse, the chestnut mare looking just as agitated as her rider. He nods at Javier and mounts his horse. The other three pull themselves on to.

"Any ideas where he might have wandered off to?" Javier asks once he's seated on Boaz' saddle. Arthur shakes his head. Charles and Mary-Beth don't respond at all. "Great."

Arthur takes lead and kicks his horse into a fast trot.

"I reckon we ask around the city. Aren't too many places he could have gotten to and someone's bound to know something. Had some of those hillbilly bastards try and ambush me on the bridge into town if that don't work out." It's not his best plan but they have nothing to work with. There are some considering noises behind him as they mull over his words. They're making good time and soon pass Rhodes. Arthur makes sure to leave a few hundred feet between them and the town.

"Don't really seem smart enough to take him alive," Mary-Beth says. Her voice is too grave for the joke to land. She's right and Arthur knows it. They all do.

"Let's hope it isn't them then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh boy. Guess who cried during _Horsemen, Apocalypses_?
> 
> Also, fun fact, I really hate swamps! They smell disgusting and there are too many snakes, toads and ibis around.
> 
> ((i'm 90% sure 'fuck' wasn't used the way i use it in this fic in the wild west but there's only so many times i can use cowboy curses))
> 
> Come talk to me about how Kieran didn't deserve that or anything else [on my tumblr](https://lanternrayner.tumblr.com/)


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